Kodthr un Malthinae
by fallenjedipadawan
Summary: Escape is as never as simple as the stories make it out to be. Escape from Gil'ead is nearly impossible for a single person, let alone three. Escape for two can be possible when a single man makes a sacrifice for the sake of his friends. AU
1. Kodthr

A/N: yea my first Eragon fanfic

**A/N: yea my first Eragon fanfic. First chapter is pretty much a prologue I have longer and better chapters written. Sorry about the typos I have splint on and there are things that hard to do with it on like type, at least I'm learning how tp use my other hand better. Also I don't know how often I can update I can only get on the computer like three days a week and I'm working on another fanfic at the same time. **

**Disclaimer: I'm fourteen Christopher Paloni was fifteen when he wrote Eragon so I'm obviously not him and this means I don't own the inheritance cycle.**

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**Kodthr**

"That's it he failed. Go in and get them." Soldiers with nets and spears poured into the banquet room from both ends. Eragon and Murtagh backed up against the wall dragging the elf with them. The men formed a menacing half circle around them. Murtagh's eyes darted from the group that encircled them and then to his comrade who's hand quavered, the hilt of his sword trembling in his loosened grip.

A sharp crack resounded through the room and Murtagh's heart rose knowing Saphira had arrived and with her the chance of their escaping. Soldiers glanced at the ceiling fearfully, then averted their gaze from their possible doom and glared at their quarry. Suddenly a lone archer aiming at the weakened rider, at the same instant a vengeful dragon flung herself through the destroyed ceiling. As the debris cascaded upon the forces Murtagh felt a sharp pain flow up his left arm and Saphira froze seeing the danger her counter part was in.

"Freeze! If you surrender now we won't have to harm you." A deep voiced soldier demand running his hand over his dense bristly beard. Murtagh dropped his bow and lifted his right arm over his head cradling the other against his chest. Eragon stared with wide eyed shock at his blank faced friend, the other meet his gaze squarely trying to use to convey his plan. As Murtagh stepped in front of the younger boy and toward the soldiers he surveyed his broken wrist and than pointedly looked at the dragon. He then swung his other fist grinning when it connectedly solidly with the bearded soldiers jaw. This provided the distraction that was so desperately needed, the soldier was caught off guard and stumbled backwards and several other soldiers rushed in to constrain the dark haired young man.

In a swift movement Eragon picked up the light elf, dashed to his dragon, and quickly mounted. Saphira spread her majestic wings and prepared to depart, but hesitated upon seeing her riders worried expression.

Murtagh saw it to, "Eragon, go! I didn't do this so you world get yourself caught again." With a growl that shook the heavens Saphira speed back through the hole she had recently created in the roof, Eragon clutching the saddle in one hand and the other with the other arm he held the elf. The last thing Murtagh saw of Eragon before he vanished into the inky night was his guilty visage. Knowing what was soon to come for him Murtagh let out one glad shout, happy to have achieved at least one thing since escaping the kings hold.

His countenance then grew sober and in a mocking gesture he gave an exaggerated bow to the captain of the guard, "I beg your pardon for my friends hasty departure, he had much more pressing matters to intend to. May haps your hospitality was not adequate for one of his importance. I'm sorry if it offends you, but someone who is worthy of a dragon should not have to even think of visiting such a lowly hovel as this."

"You don't talk like one of them village bumpkins, boy. Who are you and where are you actually from?" The captain said standing so that their eyes were on the same level.

"I don't see why I should tell someone like you that. Who are you and where are you from?" Murtagh retorted turning the question back on the asker.

"Very well when Durza returns, for he certainly will, he will find out and his methods are much harsher than ours." Said the soldier glaring spitefully at Murtagh, who returned the look with double the malice. "Take him to a cell and make sure there is no way for him to try to make a daring escape." Murtagh bit down on his lip when his injured arm was twisted behind his back and he was forced down a dank stone corridor. When he was shoved into a cell the door clanged ominously shut and Murtagh's inner steel seemed to vanish causing him to slump on to the rough cot head dejectedly bowed.

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Saphira floated into a clearing and gently landed on a mixture of decomposing leaves, plants in various stages of life, and oozing mud. Eragon clambered down from his mount and laying a blanket on a moderately dry spot he reverently placed the elf on top of it. A distraught glow filled his eyes and he started to saddle Snowfire.

_And where do you think you're going?_ Saphira asked appearing like a rancorous goddess about to display her wrath.

_I have to help Murtagh. I can't just leave him there._

_Who will look after the elf?_

_You can. I know she'll be safe with you._

_What will happen if you're caught? Little one, if that happens you will make Murtagh's sacrifice worth nothing. He willingly gave himself up so you could be free._

_But what should I do? I can't just leave him there, he didn't leave me._

_No, he didn't leave you. But he knew the risk of getting caught, and he specifically told me that if you were to get away without him under no circumstances were you to come back._

_He saved my life more than once already, I have to repay him._

_No, you do not. Now tend to the elf, little one, I will keep watch. _

Eragon moved towards the elf in a semi dream like state and knelt besides her emitting a heavy sigh_._ He turned so she lay flat on her back, and drew a sharp breath when he glimpsed the livid bruises that colored her fair skin. He uttered a curse under his breath and unlaced the back of her shirt and gagged at the sight of her ruined flesh, he could tell it she had numerous horrific tortures inflicted upon her.

_Saphira, what if they do that to him?_

_I think he would willingly take it so you don't have to._ Saphira moved so that she separated Eragon from the horses. After Eragon rummaged through a sack he forced down some dry bread and then returned to the elf's side. He drew a deep breath before setting to work.

"Waise heill!" He repaired the areas where restoration was vital and then stopped overcome by fatigue. He wearily stretched out in the undergrowth and slowly drifted into a troubled sleep.

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**What do you think pleas tell me? Reviewing ain't that hard so try it.**


	2. Vakna

**a/n: Who missed me? So I finally got my hands on a copy of Brisingr and I laughed so hard in the part where Eragon and Roran are comparing bruises and scars, because not five minutes earlier my friend and I had been doing that exact same thing,(I kicked butt.) Sorry I haven't updated in forever, but don't worry I have the next five chapters written and just need to type them.**

**Vakna**

Murtagh was jolted out of a restless sleep when the oak door gave a loud creak and banged against the cell wall. Two soldiers stood in the door way eyeing the room and its occupant with great distaste.

"Up, the captain wants to see you," one of the duo demanded in a gravely growl. When Murtagh elicited no response, the second guard wrenched him from the bed and pushed him through the door. The three traversed the hall in silence, only being pierced by a nail in the bottom of on of the guards' boots clattering against the cobble stone floor. They approached a dark, wooden door. The soldiers straightened their backs and then the younger of the rapped sharply on the door.

"We brought the prisoner you requested to see, sir."

After a moment wait the door was pulled open by the captain and the guards escorted their prisoner inside. "Very good, you may go." The captain barked watching as both of the lesser ranked soldiers saluted before retreating down the narrow hallway. He then started to circle the young man with a cool, calculating gaze. "You don't look like much more then the average piece of mountain trash, yet some how you were able to free the dragon rider and an elf, both of whom were supposed to be extremely well guarded. How pray tell did you do it?" When silence echoed throughout the room he continued on. Are you ready to tell us who you are, it will make everything much easier on yourself."

"Why would I tell a mere soldier my name? It doesn't actually matter if you have my name or not. Even if I told you, you would still hand me over to either the king or the shade so you could try finding out everything I know about the rider."

"A mere soldier? Now aren't we high and mighty?" A voice said from a gloomy corner, making the young man eye it warily.

"That was noble, rescuing that pitiful excuse for a rider like that. If it weren't for you he most certainly would have perished before Galbatorix's wrath. You risked your life to rescue him, yet he leaves you and soon will have no thought at all of you." Came the icy, mocking voice from another corner of the room; causing Murtagh to whirl around and face it and drawing a smug smile from the captain.

"Who's there? Reveal yourself."

"As you wish." Said the mysterious speaker, this time directly behind the teen. The boy spun around to meet the crimson eyes of a shade. Immediately stars exploded behind Murtagh's eyes as a mind probe was rammed into his carefully guarded barriers. Sepia stared blankly into scarlet eyes as both minds fought for dominance in the younger man. After numerous agonizingly slow minutes the dispute was abruptly exterminated; Murtagh stepping back as the connection was cut, surprised at the respite.

"Some one has taught you to defend your mind well."

"It's the only way I would have survived this long."

The captain who had been quietly watching the scene unfold felt the need to reinstate his presence, "Did you or did you not find out what we need to know?"

"Do you not trust my abilities?" Durza purred stalking towards the captain.

"N…n…no, sir. I mean yes, sir. I have no doubt what so ever in you abilities." The captain stuttered backing away from the shade.

"Good!" Durza glared scathingly at the captain for another minute. "His mind is well shielded, but even the strongest shields fall after a time. There are ways to increase the speed at which they crumble; starvation, torture, and if you gain any leverage against them they collapse."

The shade then turned back to face the adolescent who was watching him with terrified fascination. The shade studied him in silence for several minutes, smiling slightly when the boy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "You remind me of some one." The blood red eyes studied the dark hair and eyes, the way the young man's jaw was set, and the disdainful way he looked at the captain. "Morzan." That one word caused Murtagh's scowl to deepen as he turned his face to look at the wall. "So the rumors are true, the king's right hand man a child, and probably an illegitimate one at that."

"My mother and father were married," Murtagh snapped before adding in a harsher voice. "Though I wish they had never meet. All it ever did was it brought more suffering."

"Awww, not happy with daddy and mommy?" mocked Durza, laughing when the venomous glare was turned in his direction.

"Imagine if your father hated you and your mother so much that you had to constantly fear what he would do to you when you were a child. Or if you father was one of the most notorious people in history. My father and I have no relation as far as I'm concerned. I would rather have been an illegitimate child then be related to that demon."

"If your father was Morzan, then that must mean you are Murtagh. The ungrateful little wretch the king has been looking for." He reached out a hand and ran it down the side of the boys face, causing him to shudder and pull away from the touch. "You really are quite an interesting specimen. It's a pity that the king wants you back. I would very much have enjoyed making you beg for death, it might serve as payback for releasing those others."

"He's Morzan's son?" The captain asked overcoming his shock. "But…but why isn't he like his father?"

"I'll die before I become like that monster, serving a thrice cursed spawn of the devil!"

"How dare you speak of his majesty like that!" Durza snarled. Murtagh gasped as enormous pressure descended upon him, forcing the air out of his lungs.

He chocked out, "It is the truth and more then he deserves." Pain coursed through his veins, accentuating each heart beat as if the agony came from the vital organ. He collapsed to his knees ignoring the shock as they instantly bruised.

"If you simply admit that you're wrong I'll stop." Durza said eyeing his victim as he groaned, placing his head in his hands.

"Never!" Murtagh said in a voice that showed the pain he was experiencing as a spasm rocked his body.

Durza's voice echoed around the stone room as he looked haughtily at the trembling figure. "Very well."

The captain stood by for several minutes before quietly speaking up, "Stop. If anything happens to him the king will be furious at both of us." The shade looked at him in contempt and then stalked out of the room.

A moment passed before Murtagh lifted his aching head from staring vacantly at his shaky hands. "Thank you for helping me, sir." He managed and then swayed, eyes rolling back into his head as he collapsed into uncharitable darkness.

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A light breeze danced through the meadow and a delicate fern swayed, tickling Eragon's nose. He shifted away from it and grimaced as a rock pressed into his ribcage. He cracked open his brown eyes and looked around the sunny meadow, his heart soared as his eyes skipped over the vibrant blowers and lush greenery to the elf. He still felt as if he was in an unreal dream where he had rescued the mythical woman. No other person alive could brag of rescuing an elf, that is other then Murtagh. His cheerful mood evaporated in an instant. Murtagh. He had left, Murtagh, his only friend in the hands of those who sought them.

"_Good morning sleepyhead." _Saphira greeted gleefully.

"_Come on, Saphira, we need to get going."_ Eragon grunted jamming the few items he had taken out the night before back into the sack.

"_Little one what is wrong?"_

"_What is wrong? I left Murtagh at Gil'ead is what is wrong! He wouldn't have left me."'_

"_Eragon, it's your duty to get the elf to help now. You will have time for this later."_

Several long minutes of strained silence followed this statement.

"_Saphira, I'm sorry. Do you think you can carry the elf?" _Eragon asked looking somewhat abashed, before abruptly turning to face the two horses. He sighed as he contemplated what to do with them; he had promised to take care of Snowfire, but he felt like he would be betraying Murtagh if he got rid of Tornac. The only thing the two horses would do would be to hinder his progress. He ran his hand over Tornac's forelock, before taking the reins and tying them to Snowfire's saddle. He then carried the elf and placed her on the saddle, securing her legs in the straps.

He walked the horses out of the clearing, before changing into a gallop. The group rode hard for several hours, before Eragon stopped on a low hill.

"_Saphira, I admit it I have no idea where we are or were we are going."_

"_Ask the elf, where we should go." _ Saphira said nonchalantly.

"_Ask the elf?" _Eragon sputtered. "_Have you not noticed she is unconscious? How am I supposed to ask her?" _

"_Are you not a rider? Speak to her with your mind."_

"_But I've never done anything like that before."_

"_That has never stopped you in the past. I have faith in you, Eragon."_

Eragon hesitantly reached out with his mind and brushed against the foreign presence. The elf's conscience drew back and then rammed into his, as a colorful explosion of pain danced behind his eyes. As his thoughts were smothered he desperately cried out, _"Eka ai fricari un Shur'tugal!" The elf stopped her attack on his mind in shock._

"_A rider!"_ She exclaimed incredulously.

"_Aye, my name is Eragon." _

"_A noble name, as a rider you shall bring hope to many. I am Arya."_

"_Arya." _Eragon said deciding this name fit the strange, beautiful women better then any other name ever would have. _"You are ill, what shall I do?" _

"_During my captivity, a rare poison, the Skilna Bragh, was given to me, along with the drug to suppress my power. Every morning the antidote for the previous day's poison was given to me. Without it I will die within several hours. That is why I lie in this trance-it slows the effects of the poison."_

"_How much longer can you remain like this?"_

"_Unless I receive the antidote, I will succumb to the poison in three or four days. It resides in only two places; my home, and with the Varden. Ellesm'era will be closed to you, instead take me to the Varden." _

"_But I have no idea where to find them?"_

"_You must swear never to reveal their location." _

"_I swear." _Suddenly a barrage of images flooded Eragon's mind as the way to the concealed rebels was exposed. _"Thank you, I'll do my best to get you to them, I promise." _With that Eragon urged Snowfire into a gallop and rode toward the remorseless Hadarac desert.

**a/n: So what did you think? Please, please, please tell me! Just review, it is much simpler to do that then to learn how to plant wheat, so do it. Also tell me if you want to hear a funny story about my friend, a bunch of urgals, and me. And give me on your opinion on which horse he should keep. Thanks for reading.**

**-May your swords stay sharp. **

**Alex**


	3. Ganga Aptar un Ganga Fram

**a/n: Hey I'm back already!!! I couldn't believe it either; I just had nothing else to do then watch the snow for the past week so I had plenty of time to type. Please, please, review, it really keeps me going. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Playlist as writing: Get out Alive-Three Days Grace**

**Dark waltz-****Hayley Westenra**

**World so Cold- 12 stones**

**Take it all Away-RED**

**Beyond the Surface- Kutless**

**Disclaimer: PC ot sgnoleb lla ti, elpeop elbeazingocernu neht rehto siht fo yna ton od I. **

**Ganga Aptr un Ganga Fram**

Murtagh stared listlessly at the leader of a small caravan who nervously twisted his cap in his hands and stuttered as he spoke to a burly soldier. The first several days of travel he had been interested in what the soldiers would want with the traders, but now he knew it was only to terrorize them. His wandered towards a soaring rock formation that when he had he had first fled Ur'ubaen had seemed breathtaking, whereas now it seemed dark and forbidding.

"Please, Sir, we haven't got anymore to give you. The rest when sold will barely be enough to last us through the winter."

"These items will help support the king, you should be glad to provide for our cause. Unless you one of those filthy Varden, then we will have something to give you." The soldier leered as the man blanched at the sight of the soldier running his hand over the pommel of his sword. Murtagh saw a small pile of food, tools, and trinkets that had been commandeered by the soldiers, standing several feet away stood the man's pitifully skinny wife sobbing into work hardened hands, and a rage that he had held inside since he had been captured boiled over.

"Stop that! Can't you see what they say is true? They have little and can ill afford for you to take what they have. There is plenty of food and gear to go amongst you and still there is excess. Surely you haven't been soldiers so long that you've forgotten how your family, or friends, of neighbor had to struggle to simply feed and clothe themselves, instead of harassing honest, hard working people so that you can be provided for." He spat out, causing the merchant to look at him in awe and several soldiers to give him disgusted looks. Only one soldier, a golden haired young man who appeared to be no more then a year older the Murtagh, appeared to agree.

"Aye, enough with this. We've got more then enough. Let them be on their way with their possessions."

"Who are you to be telling us what to do?" The captain demanded glaring at the two young men. "May I remind you that you are our prisoner. And you should have learned by now where your place is!"

"Yes, sir." The soldier said but continued to stare defiantly at the captain before the rumbling of an approaching made every one turn to face the noise.

A midnight black horse appeared on a knoll, its rider haughtily staring at the travelers, who pulled back in fear at the sight of the monstrous man. "What is the meaning of this delay?"

"These people were refusing to aid us by supplying food for our journey and he," the captain jerked his head in Murtagh's direction. "Agreed with them. It was starting to cause unrest among my men."

Durza turned so that his horse stood directly in front of the young man; whose face had resumed its blank expression, yet his eyes still contained the furious spark. "Why do you support these worthless people? Does it really matter if there a few more poor who tarnish Alagaesia?"

"There is enough food for everyone here; there is no need for more."

"Shall I remind you of your position?" Durza hissed and when Murtagh continued to glare at him he spoke up. "Very well, then to make up for the loss you will be causing the company, the others can have your rations."

"But, sir." The young soldier started and then was promptly cut off by an upheld hand from the captain.

"What is your name?"

"Daviat, sir."

"Daviat, do you want to join him in punishment for insubordination?" The captain's eyes grew dark from irritation at the situation.

"No, sir. But sir, I thought the king wished him back."

"Aye, that he does, but a little hunger never hurt anyone. Now I do believe this matter is closed."

"Kciredorb, the king shall not be pleased if we continue to halt for these meaningless delays." Durza wheeled his horse around and thundered over the rise. The captain gestured and several soldiers picked up the traveler's assets, ignoring the woman's choking sobs and the pitiful pleas of the man.

"I'm not moving until you return what you took from them." Murtagh scowled.

The captain took a step back and whispered, "Morzan." For a moment it had seemed that instead of looking at the captive he was looking at the boy's father. The petrifying soul of the first of the forsworn seemed to briefly blaze in the teenager, his eyes reflected the demons, and his voice had lowered to the icy tone of the savage man. He blinked and once again the prisoner was just a boy, he knew hadn't imagined this phenomenon for other men had drawn away from the youth. This put him in a difficult situation on one hand it would cause mêlée among his men if he complied to a prisoners demand; yet on the other hand he knew it would embitter Durza and the king, and he was horrified of the anger that he had seen descend upon the boy.

"Give them half; the rest is ours to keep. If you have any more objections, I shall have you whipped, and then I will turn you over to Durza to do as he wishes, whether the king approves or not." Several of the soldiers dropped what they had taken from the group and scowled at the majority who were awe struck to have their possessions returned.

As the soldiers moved forward the small woman moved towards Murtagh and pressed something into his bound hands. "Here 'tis a good luck charm. It will ward you from evil. You're a saint to have helped. You're parents for raising a good boy like you, you are lucky to have parents that would have raised you this way." She saw the pained expression on Murtagh's face and lifted his chin to look at her. "You remind me of my son, he works in Galbatorix's palace. He is just a little then you are. His name is…" She never got to finish before a soldier pulled her away and shoved her into her husband's arms.

"Come along. Morzansson. You don't want to keep the king waiting." A soldier barked forcing Murtagh forward, but not before he saw the revulsion on the couple's visages. He turned away in shame and continued on his trek towards the nightmare king.

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Eragon groaned and shifted in his saddle, tired from several days of hard riding. Saphira circled over head casting a small shadow across the land. Eragon had no idea how he traveled this far so quickly. Even now he could see the mighty Ronar river. He slowed Tornac to a walk as he tried to decide the best way to cross the river. He had slipped through a small village at dawn, remaining phantom like as speed away from the town.

"Saphira, do you see a place to cross?"

"There might be one about a kilometer downstream from you."

"Thanks, I'll see if it is possibility." He moved the two horses forward, ignoring the squelching noises the mud made as the horses feet were pulled out of the oppressive substance.

When he arrived at the location he realized that for the first time since reaching the rushing waters he could glimpse the opposite shore.

"This might work…"

"Eragon!" Saphira bellowed causing her rider to jump.

"What?" Eragon asked apprehensively knowing Saphira would only act like that if he was in some form of peril.

"There are soldiers riding quickly towards you."

"How far away are they?"

"Maybe three kilometers."

Eragon shifted uneasily, glancing over his shoulder before taking a deep breath and urging the horses in to the turbulent water.

**A/n: What do you think please tell me. I know it's not the best chapter, but it will be important later on. Please review it is very easy to do. Also I am so terribly sore today so I didn't feel like typing, and my heart is very heavy right now so I didn't put as much effort in as I could have so please review it makes me feel better.**

**Reviews (sorry I didn't get around to this last time)**

**Katja Nilsen-Thanks for the review. Yes, poor Murtagh it will get better in a little while, but you know what they say, it's also way's darkest before the dawn.**

**charlemagnebrat1****-Thanks, I think I will get rid or snowfire, and I will make sure he goes to someone good. Thanks for reviewing. I agree there are mot enough AU Eragon fics.**

**ElfAngel2008-Thanks for the review it's always good to know someone likes my stories. Is this soon enough for an update?**

**jxr1- Thanks for telling me that you like it, glad to hear what you think.**


	4. Kveykva

**a/n: Hey I'm back, again. It's been a crazy summer; I was outside the mountains for the first time in my life, I stood on such a high mountain that you can see for miles in every direction, I walked in the desert (and sat in a cactus), and I splet under the stars. I meet people, trained with them, we cried together and bleed together, One of them held my wrist to get me to talk and distract them and we pulled a piece of metal from and their foot and sanitized it (I had bruises around my wrist for over a week), and then we torn apart and I will never see them again. :'( I explored castles and forts, I went to a masquerade, I cried over friend's death, and made new friends. You all need to review this time or I'm going to do something drastic, especially since this is the longest chapter yet. Also special thanks to and to everyone who said I should work on this story. **

**Disclaimer: Ich nicht eins irgendwie von diesem es, das aller Chrisopter Paloni gehört, außer den unkown Leuten.**

**Kveykva**

Bile rose in the back of Murtagh's throat grew nearer, the spires of the palace casting an oppressive feel over the capital city. The lack of food and long march had drained his strength, and he stumbled and almost fell, but was caught by a strong hand; the loud jeers of a cluster of soldiers filled the air behind him.

"Ignore them, they're only trying to vex you." A quite voice said making him jerk his head up to see who was willing to offer a kind word. He met the inquisitive gaze of Daviat. "I know I'm normally on the receiving end."

"Why? Have you done something to cause it?"

"I'm young, I'm new, I would rather help someone then harm them." He shrugged, "They don't need much reason to torment someone."

"Is that why you helped me?"

"Oh that?" The blonde thought over the events that had happened four days prior, his green eyes skimming over the city. "I guess it reminded me of my family, but you wouldn't want to hear about that."

"Go on, it would be something to think about other then my problems."

"Are you sure? It's rather long."

Murtagh sighed impatiently, "Yes, we're have plenty of time. I'm not going anywhere soon." He lifted his hands, the wrist rubbed raw from the coarse rope, as if to remind the other he was a prisoner.

"My family was part of a band of traders and traveling performers. It was just my mother, my little sister and me; my father was killed in a tavern bawl by a soldier when I was six. Our group was always being troubled by soldiers like what you saw the other day, so we were never able to earn enough to settle down anywhere."

Murtagh opened his mouth to question why the young man had joined the soldiers, but closed it deciding the answer would come later in the story.

"When I was five my mother remarried. He had two sons and a daughter from a previous marriage; his wife had died during childbirth with the girl. He was part of the group we traveled with so I had known him for most of my life. I hated him; he spent all our money on liquor, he was awful to my mother and little sister, he treated his children like they were royalty and never had to do any work, my sister and I did all the work for them or else we wouldn't eat that day. I tried running away with my sister once, his eldest son caught us and I got a horrible beating for that. By that time my mother hadn't been able to handle it anymore and had vanished one day during a fair. She had been wasting away since she had married him and would cry herself to sleep most nights. She was so beautiful, many a man would have been willing to take her in; she probably found a kind innkeeper and settled down to live with him. None of us ever heard from her again."

He paused and then continued, "When I was fourteen and she was twelve, our stepfather sent her to work as a maid in a rich man's household. After that I was alone with him and his children, I don't think I would have made it if it wasn't for his daughter. She wasn't like her father and brothers ; she would bring me part of her meals on nights I didn't have any, she would clean me up after a beating, she would protect me from her fathers anger when she could, and she was always there when it all was to much. The year I was seventeen he decided he wanted to be rid of me. It so happened that the town we were in was a military base; he took me down and enlisted me. The last I was ever saw of my family was my step sister glowing with joy because I was leaving that life behind and my stepfather and step brothers going to celebrate getting rid of me at the local tavern."

"I think I understand why. If I wanted to spite someone I would somewhere they hate, with people they can't stand, to do something they would normally refuse to do. Like the king, he knows that I hate my father therefore he expects me to act like the ever faithful dog he was."

"What is it like to be the son of Morzan?" The question was merely out of curiosity instead of the malice that normally accompanied the question.

"I'm expected to be just like him," Murtagh said bitterly, "The king's ever loyal servant who only finds pleasure in cruel, ruthless acts. Ever since I was a small child people have hated me for being his son, and nearly everyone who I have gotten close to has rejected me as soon as they found it."

"He couldn't have always been that heartless. Wasn't he ever different around you and your mother?"

"My mother was a foolish girl who fell in love with his deceptive charm. To him she was only another woman who willing gave herself to him. No he never was anything but cold towards her. He tried killing me when I was three."

"He tried killing you? How?"

"He got drunk, he slapped my mother, I ran to her because she started crying, and he threw his sword at me. The scar I still carry from that night was the one and only thing he ever gave to me."

"Isn't it possible that he only did because he was drunk?"

"No. He hated me. My nurses and nannies used to tell me that if I was naughty they would let him feed me to his dragon, or drop me out of a tower, or give me to the wolves, and I believe if he was angry enough he would have done just that. He was totally merciless. If you have ever heard any stories about him killing or torturing people on a whim, it was most likely true." His voice broke off as the company neared the city gates and his eyes acquired a terrified gleam.

Daviat looked at him worriedly and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

For a minute the carefully constructed mask dissolved and the terror that had been held inside leaked out. "I'm scared." The answer was so quiet it was barely more then a whisper.

I'm so afraid of what he'll do." There was no need for Murtagh to explain that he was talking about the king. "He's relentless to whoever displeases him, even those who are of little consequence. I knew when I left that he…he… I could have never been caught, but I had to save Eragon. He was the best friend I ever had. He seemed almost like a little brother. There was no way I was going to let the king touch him. Right after I was caught I thought he would do something foolish and try to rescue me. He was like that, always rushing in to things without a thought. Oh Gods, I don't know how I'll be able to face him, I'm terrified." The words came out in a rush as thoughts tangled, words and idea blending together. By this time they were in the shadow of the palace and the terror increased until suddenly peaked, and in the next instant sober countenance returned to the young man.

As they passed through the immense doors and crossed the threshold made entirely of parian marble a feeling of imminent doom selted on the youth. The company halted outside the throne room and shad entered, the quiet murmur of voices drifted through the door that had been partly left ajar. Suddenly the shade appeared a malevolent expression on his face, "The king wishes to see the boy now."

The captain of the soldiers pulled out a dagger and cut the ropes that bound the boy's wrists. Murtagh let out a small gasp as his arms were jerked behind his back and roughly tied together. The bearded man then grabbed the prisoners arm and roughly dragged him into the gloomy throne room. Murtagh caught a glimpse of an amused expression on the king's face before his legs were knocked out from under him, causing him to kneel in front of the king. Before he had a chance to look up a heavy hand was placed on his head, forcing him to stare at the intricately tiled floor.

"Very good, captain. You are excused for the moment, but you and two soldiers remain in here for now in case I have need of you." Galbatorix's voice swelled to fill the large room. Murtagh heard the sound or rapidly receding footsteps and the noise of the heavy door closing before he dared to look up at the king. A faintly perturbed expression filled his face and he shook his head as if feeling regret for having to punish a young child for their foolish actions.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the prodigal child." The monarch rose from his throne and slowly walked down from the dais. "Do you know how much trouble you caused me when you ran off?" The king backhanded the kneeling figure. "When I ask a question I expect it to be answered. Do you understand?" Stubborn silence greeted him and his hand, as fast as lightening, struck the youth again

"Why did you leave? Were you not happy here?"

"What reason would I have to stay? I have no cause to pledge my alliegence to anyone here."

"Why you little whelp." The slap that followed echoed through out the chamber. "You should be thankful for everything I've done for you."

"What you have done for me?" The incredulous question came.

"When your father died do you know what could have happened to you? There were those who wanted retribution for how Morzan wronged them, and I could have given you to them to appease their anger. I could have killed you when he died, I could have sent you to live in the streets, I could have given you to someone loyal to me to do whatever they pleased, I could have made you work as a servant in the palace. I could have given you to the general to raise as a soldier, I could have feed you to the Ra'zac, I could have sold you as a slave." Galbatorix's voice had crescendoed until he was screaming. "But out of the goodness of my heart-" Here he was cut off by a chuckle of amusement from the boy at the thought of the king being kind. "You will hold your tongue when I am talking. Out of the goodness of my heart I decided to keep you and raise you as if you were my own son. I had the finest tutors found to teach you, I had you trained in all the skills you would ever need. And gave you everything you wanted. And what thanks do I get? You decided that you should spite me and fun off."

"All I ever wanted? What about freedom? I was rarely out side of these walls and only then to travel so I could be a prisoner in Morzan's castle. I never spent one day outside of Urû'baen except when I was at my father's. What about compassion? Did you ever bother to visit me and inquire how I was? When I broke a rule did you care how I was punished?"

"I grow tired of this talk. There's much we need to discuss." The king studied the teen, making him feel like an animal being slowly circled by a predator with no hope of escape. "Now where have you been and where is that boy heading?"

"Do you honestly think I would tell you that?" Murtagh scoffed, spiting at the king's feet. Before he had time to register what was happening the king had pulled him up and thrown him in a cold, stone wall. A small cry escaped his lips as his broken are was slammed into the wall with jarring force.

"It will prevent much pain." The king stated, flipping a jeweled dagger carelessly before uttering a word in the ancient language. The boy's dark eyes widened slightly before he dropped to his knees. A moment later he glanced up to see the dagger in embedded in the wall where his shoulder had been. "Wonderful reaction, not many would have been able to do that. Are you sure you don't want to enlighten me about your little adventures?" With a second word the dagger returned itself to the king's hand. Murtagh slowly stood and glared at the king with hateful eyes. "I'll take that as a no. Malthinae. You know that look is quiet unbecoming on you." He walked leisurely towards the youth who was trapped in place by the king's word.

The cold blue eyes of the king narrowed ad the boy warily eyed the dagger, knowing he was unable to protect himself in anyway. "Because you refuse to tell me something that is vital for me to know I'm afraid I must do this." Then elder ran the edge of the dagger, painfully slowly, several inches down the side of the youth's face. Immediately a line of crimson blood formed behind it, contrasting his pale skin. "What a pity, I'm afraid that will scar. I do hope there is no lady in your life who loves your looks of hates scars, but then again you already have one to frighten her away with."

"Now are you quite sure there is nothing you wish to tell me about that little dragon rider?" The king inspected the blood on the blade of the dagger, before wiping it off on a silk cloth.

"I would rather die." Murtagh said, defiantly staring into the king's eyes.

"Oh, I won't let that happen. If you don't tell me I will take you to the brink of death but not let you fall in, I will show you pain as you have ever known, and when I am done I will do it again. The longer you resist the more painful it will be, and it will be your own fault."

With that statement still hanging in the air a mind probe slammed into Murtagh's barriers with such force the shade's attempt a few days earlier seemed minimal. The minutes pass slowly and the boy's knees began to tremble as sweet mixed with the blood trickling down his face. Agonizingly slowly the king withdrew his attack from the other's mind. If it hadn't been for the magic that bound Murtagh in place he would have collapsed to the frigid floor. "Hurt's doesn't it boy? That was but a taste of what I can do, if I had actually wanted to get inside of your mind your measly shields would have never lasted." The chuckled as he turned away from the ashen face. "Losna."

The boy crumpled to the floor, concentrating on slowing his breathing. The king looked at him in disdain and then clapped his hands. A moment passed and Kciredorb appeared in the doorway. "My lord?"

"Take him down to the dungeons." Galbatorix gestured at the shuddering figure. "Make sure there's a guard at his cell, if he's anything like his father would have been he will try to escape." The king had started to return to his throne when he turned back to the soldier. "Durza mentioned you might have something to discuss with me."

"Yes, your majesty. There's a soldier among my troops who refuses to listen to orders, I've tried punishing him but that has no effect. I think if he was closer to someone who knew how to keep him in check might help."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Sire, if he could remain here for a little while I believe he would quickly learn the importance of obedience."

"Send him in."

"Right away, your majesty." The captain vanished through the large doors.

After a moment Daviat slowly walked in, his face pallid. "You wished to see me, your highness?" He gave a deep bow.

"Yes. It has come to my attention that you have been blatantly refusing to follow orders given to you by your superiors. Is this true?"

Daviat swallowed, "Yes, sir."

"Do you have a legitimate excuse?"

"No, your highness."

"TO prevent this from happening in the future you shall stay here."

"Here? Of course, your majesty."

"Good, go get one of the other soldiers to help you take Murtagh to the dungeons."

"Yes, sir." Daviat turned on his heel and exited through the door, when he came back he was accompanied by the captain who had been standing just outside the door, listening for further orders. They dragged Murtagh to a standing position, and he struggled for a moment before the king muttered something in the ancient language and fell limp in their grasp.

As they walked through a torch lit corridor the boys head lolled forward and a small carved piece of white wood on a leather cord was exposed. "What's this?" The captain said looking at it. "Some sort of charm?" He moved to roughly yank it off the boy's neck, but Daviat reached out and stopped him.

"Let him keep it. He needs all the luck he can get surviving the next few weeks."

Kciredorb nodded and tucked the charm back inside the teen's shirt. When they reached the dungeons the bearded man gestured for a young soldier who was standing nearby to follow them. The small group reached a vacant cell and dropped the boy in the center. "You are to watch over this prisoner at all costs. Do not let him escape or the king will have your head."

"Aye-aye, sir" The young man saluted the captain and took up position outside the locked door, as Daviat and Kciredorb retreated down the gloomy passage they had just traversed.

**EEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEBEEEBE**

The feeling of coarse sand was everywhere. It filled his mouth and nose, if chaffed against his skin where it had embedded itself in his clothes, it trickled into his, and every time he blinked into burned his eyes from the sand that kept getting blown into them. Eragon sighed as a gust of wind blew the sand into fantastic shapes, driving into his face as it did. For several days he had wandered in the God forsaken desert. He glances up at the sky as tumultuous clouds released jagged lightening and ominous thunder.

_Saphira, how is Arya doing?_

_She is no worse, yet not any better. I fear for her. We must make it to the Varden soon if she is to survive. _

_Aye. And the army is close behind. _

_Do not fret. we will soon be out of this desert._

Eragon urged his mount to move faster as they started their last attempt to exit their dessert and flee the army that pursued them.

**I know Eragon's part was short, but that's because he is going to have a very long part next time. If parts of this don't make sense tell me because I wrote it with a raging fever and sometimes things that make sense when you're sick make no sense when your healthy. As always please review. **

**REVIEWS**

**Jxr1- Haha, you never know. He does have the bad habit of having to be rescued doesn't he? Also thanks for being on of my most faithful reviewers.**

**The Darkest Wizard- Thanks, I'm glad you're liking it. You'll just have to keep reading and see if they bond soon. **

**Katja Nilsen****- Thanks. Agreed I've always thought he would so I decided to make him stand up for the good. **

**SgtGroganSG****- Sorry I didn't update fast like you wanted me to. Agreed he's cute and in my opinion the best character in the Inheritance Cycle. **

**bluewaffle61- Fist off, sweet pen name. I try my best to not make them ooc. Well you have some good ideas, but… I'm not sure that's the direction I want to go with this story.**

**Oxygen Deprived- It really irks me when people use anonymous names to criticize my work. At least make it constructive criticism in the future.**

**Jxr1- See you review lots. Technically I got more votes for my Alex Rider story but I'm enjoying writing this story more, so I'll probably work on it more. Thanks, it just popped into my head one day when I was sowing so I decided to write it. **


	5. Blödh un Rakr

**a/n: Yikes, haven't updated since October. I could tell you I'm rarely at home which would be true, I also could tell you I haven't lived at home for the past nine weeks, which would also be true, I could tell you computer access has been sparse, which would be the truth, but I won't. ;). If anyone's interested I also have a link to the play list while using this used while writing this chapter. Please review, it makes me happy. I promise one chapter a month (except November for nanowrimo) until this is done, if I don't keep my promise you all can hate me. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inheritance. **

**Blödh un Rakr**

The darkness was like an oppressive beast that crouched in the room, filling it with terror as each breath released a new fear. It filled all the crevices and blocked any light of hope. A flame in the corridor did nothing to pierce its hide; the darkness seemed to feast upon it, using the glow to replenish the shadows.

Alone in the corner a boy stared into the darkness, knowing that the only way that such an oppressive color could have been created was by magic. Surely there was a light in the corridor, but he could see none. He chuckled darkly at the thought, he wondered about a light in the corridor when the darkness was so thick he was unable to see his hands in front of him. This darkness seemed to invade his very soul, contaminating the dim hopes within him; his hope of being freed from his father and his father's memory, of being loyal to Eragon, his dreams of living his own life. The darkness seemed to shout at him, trying to frighten him into relinquishing his ideology. When this failed it whispered sweet, gentle, enticing lies to him, trying to coerce him into changing his mind. It was a mist inside his veins, constantly in a terrifying, beautiful dance. It was around him, and it was in him.

How long he had dwelt in this darkness he didn't know, it could have been days or weeks. There was no way to keep track of time here; there was no sun to watch the passing of time and the guards were switched out for another at irregular intervals giving no indication to how long one stayed in the cell.

Murtagh knew the exact size of the tiny cell, in his boredom he carefully paced it, eventually deciding after walking around it several times it was exactly five paces wide and seven paces long. At times the knowledge of something that wouldn't be changed on him, such as the size of his cell, was comforting and at times the tightness of the space

The sound of a rat burrowing into the mildewed straw caused Murtagh to look apprehensively at the source of the sound, but remained where he was, too weary to be bothered by the vermin. With a heavy sigh he leaned his head against the cold and closed burning eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept; every time he dozed off he was awakened by the soldier who was standing guard. The young man was well aware of the reason that blessed rest was denied to him; sleep deprivation was one of the simplest forms of torture, the victim would often grow so exhausted and disoriented that they would inadvertently spill secrets, let their mental barriers down, and offer anything of themselves to be allowed to sleep.

"Please, let me sleep. Even just a few hours." Murtagh whispered, too quietly for anyone besides himself to hear, in a prayer to any god that who would listen and take pity on the prisoner. "Let Daviat be standing guard."

The soldier had proved himself to be more thoughtful than Murtagh imagined a soldier of Galbatorix's could have been. It was when he was standing guard that Murtagh was able to attain a few hours of sleep; it was also when Daviat guarded his cell that an apple, extra piece of cheese, or occasionally a thin slice of meat appeared on the wooden trencher that was brought to him each evening.

The dark haired man uttered a soft curse as he moved, pain reminding him that he was weak not only from lack of food and sleep but also from the king's ministrations. Trapped in the dark cell with no companions but the rats and his own thoughts he was positive he was slowly losing his mind. He knew after the treatment he was receiving he should be able to feel the cuts from which congealed blood caused his tunic to cling to his back, each and every one of the broken fingers on his hand should be shooting throbbing pain up his arm, and every bruise that littered his torso should be aching, but he only felt a ghost of the pain when he moved to suddenly or thought about the injuries.

With a shaking hand Murtagh ran his fingers along the stone wall stopping when he felt a crack between two stones. From this gap he pulled the trinket the woman had given to him; this had become his good luck charm, when it was in his grasp he felt farther from collapsing, felt as if he might have hope. He had run his fingers over it so many times the pattern was ingrained in his memory, the edges were softer than they originally had been, his fingers rubbing at it each time he felt the darkness beginning to suffocate him. He wondered whether the design had a deeper meaning behind it, if it represented something important to the woman and her family. He knew he would never be able to ask her about it, would most likely never see her again, so he conjured explanations for the design; the falcon represented strength, speed, and freedom, as if to counter that were the thin vines the wrapped around the birds talons, imprisoning it, these were symbols of entrapment, submission, and fear. Maybe they were the crest of a long dead relative whose money and influence had vanished years before, or it could simply have been a design the family thought was intriguing.

Murtagh heard the grating sound of the latch of the door being pulled open. Instinctively he raised an arm to shield his eyes from the light that suddenly flooded his cell. A young man dressed in the plain garb of a servant entered the cell, a bowl of food in his hand and green eyes curious. "I…I've brought you your food." He stumbled a bit over this, unsure of how to address the man in the cell.

Murtagh nodded, keeping his eyes squinted as the light he had become unused to felt like daggers of pain in his head.

"I, um, am to inform you that the King wishes to see you as soon as you're finished."

A small chuckle escaped the captive's lips at this. "Wishes, eh? I don't believe I'm in any position to deny his request am I?"

This statement seemed to put the servant more at ease and he moved forward to hand the bowl to the other. As he moved closer a smile made its way onto his face and words began to pour from his mouth. "I doubt you would. Here." He knelt down and placed the food on the ground in front of Murtagh. As he drew closer Murtagh was able to see him better, his thick, red beard hid the face of a man only several years older than Murtagh. "My name is Vassar."

Murtagh winced as he reached for the food and a Vassar's brow furrowed slightly in concern. "You're hurt. The king did this to you didn't he? Here, let me see."

"Galbatorix won't like you helping me." Murtagh said between bites of the soft porridge he spooned into his mouth with his uninjured hand.

Vassar cocked an eyebrow. "He won't like it if you die from untreated wounds either. Just let me see what I can do." Unwilling to wait for consent the bearded man gingerly lifted the damaged hand, noting the tension that flooded the prisoner's body at the contact. "My gods, what did you do to warrant this?"

"I wanted to think for myself."

"Keep talking. This is going to hurt; I have to set your fingers or you'll never be able to use them again. I can't do anything about your wrist; it's been to long since you broke it. I could rebreak it and set it properly, but it looks like its healed fairly well on its own."

"How do you know all of this? You should be a healer, not bringing food to prisoners."

Vassar chuckled, "Mayhaps. My mother taught me. I was one of those kids who was always who was always doing something that resulted in me getting hurt. She eventually taught me so I could help myself. Sorry." He tightened his hold on Murtagh's hand as the man jerked away at the feeling of the bones in one of his fingers being moved back into place.

"Well that was…" Murtagh's voice was tight as he spoke. "Sensible of her." His voice faded off and he watched Vassar move to the next finger.

"What were you doing before you were brought here?" Vassar questioned in an attempt to distract the other from the pain.

"Traveling."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere away from the king."

"Alone?"

"For awhile, I eventually joined a boy. He was entirely too inquisitive for his own good, never shut up, and rarely used his brain."

"So you like him? Sorry." Vassar added as he set another finger.

"Stop apologizing and just do it." Mutagh's voice took a darker tone. "If I liked him doesn't matter anymore. He never particularly wanted me to join him. He's most likely glad to be rid of me."

The other man didn't respond to this comment, choosing to continue with his work, moving slowly to each finger. "That should do it. It would be best if we had a way to brace them, but that will just have to wait."

Vassar stood and offered his hand to help the other rise, his hand clutched Murtagh's and he easily pulled from his sitting position. As he did this he caught his first good look at the charm. In one swift movement the servant's hand flown to the other man's throat. "Where did you get it?" He pulled the carving from Murtagh's hand. "Where did you get this?"

"Someone…gave it…to me." Murtagh choked out trying to pry the man's hand away from his throat.

"Gave it to you?" Vassar snorted. "She gave it to you? You're the son of Morzan, why would she give it to you?"

"Helped her."

"You helped her? Helped her how?" The man tightened his grip. "More likely stole if from her."

"Sol…diers." The dark haired man let his hand drop to his side, as the edges of his vision blurred.

"What were the soldiers doing to her?"

"Took food."

Vassar loosened his hold slightly as the other gasped for air. "How did you help her?"

"Made them stop."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"I…" Murtagh trailed off, still unsure of why he had helped the woman and her husband. "I'm… not…my father."

The bearded man retracted his arm and turned to face the door, ignoring the man who was now on his hands and knees gasping for breath. "That symbol is my mother's. If I find out you did anything to her, I swear I'll make you regret it." He pulled the wooden bowl of the floor and stalked through the door.

A moment later a soldier appeared, ready to escort Murtagh to the king. With a scornful look he hauled the youth to his feet. His head pounding and throat bruising Murtagh stumbled along with the man, too dazed to turn his eyes on anything but the ground directly in front of his feet.

All too soon he was kneeling on the floor in the throne room, simply to exhausted to raise his head and look at the king. "Looks like someone is finally learning their place." The king's voice drawled from atop the dais, before the sound of quiet footsteps approaching caused Murtagh to inadvertently shrink away. "Are you scared? What a pity, you were so much stronger before. It always is a disappointment when the strong are foolish enough to defy me and cause me to have to turn them into something like you are now, weak, pathetic. Soon just like they always do you will be groveling before me, trying to get a way like a bug that knows that it can do nothing to prevent its self from being crushed." At the last word a strong hand was entwined in the dirty hair of the young man and pulled back, forcing him to look up.

"Look at you; you know you can't keep doing this. You know you're hurting and you know it will only keep going. You aren't a hero and never will be. You are just a foolish boy who thinks he is trying to help his friend, but you are wrong. I won't hurt him when I capture hi, I simply need to reason with him. He has no reason to be punished, and I'm sure he will see reason. Just tell me what I need to know and it will all go away. When I'm done with you, I will help you, ensure you are healed properly, but if you continue to refuse there is nothing I can do. Come now, surely you wish to be free. You weren't breed to be imprisoned, it is one of the things you fear, and you are supposed to be a powerful man with the ability to have anything you please with a single word. I promise to reward you as soon as you speak, imagine all you will have, lands, riches, and women you choose."

Murtagh swallowed knowing the king was trying to prey on the weaknesses his father had possessed and had, in less severity, passed down to his son. "I don't want your money or you women. Try as you might, you will never hear me betray Eragon."

The king released his hold on the hair, smirking slightly as the boy collapsed forwards and cried out as he slowed his fall by placing his hands in front of him, jarring his injuries. "I have something I think you will be interested in." The king moved away from the slumped figure who warily eyed the monarch. With a snap a servant appeared holding a large, wooden chest in his arms, a dull bronze lock holding it shut. A chest like this could have been found in any market in the land and no one would have given it a second chance. The King took the container from the man and dismissed him before unlocking the chest with a key he had pulled from a chord hidden inside his voluminous clothing. This he placed in the lock and turned it, a small click indicating it was unlatched. Murtagh's curiosity was piqued at what could be in the chest and why the king believed it would interest him. From it he drew two objects that sent Murtagh's buzzing.

Two perfectly oblong rocks, one crimson and the other emerald, seemed to be the only contents that the chest contained. He had no idea as to why the king believed he would be interested in them, he had never been one to study nature or be interested in such simple things as rocks, instead turning his attention to more physical aspects of his teaching such as swordsmanship or working with the horses. True, the stones were beautiful a pearly combination of brilliant colors, but he had seen similar colors on the jewels the women of the court donned at every possible occasion. The knig approached him with the stones in his hands, cradling them as if they were some of the most precious items in the known world.

"They are beautiful aren't they?" Galbatorix queried seeing the confused expression the prisoner's visage now bore. "You are interested I can tell. Why would I take my time to show you something as worthless as two simple stones? Feel them, I assure you will have never felt anything like it in your life time."

Murtagh reached out a hesitant hand before he had even realized it, as if his fingers were supernaturally drawn to the object. Just before the tips of his fingers skimmed the surface Murtagh saw the greedy gleam in the king's eyes and drew his hand as if it had been burnt. There was something unnatural about these stones, he shouldn't be so compelled to hold it, the gleam was something no normal object should ever be able to posses, and the colors, there were no words to describe the colors, lime, shamrock, fuchsia, scarlet, each drawing its own emotion from him. "What are they?" He whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"So you notice something different about them? That must be from your father, I've always wondered how you would react if you were exposed to them. I assume others would simply think they had found themselves a pretty trinket, not realize what they were."

"My father..." Murtagh tried to work past the mist in his mind and try to make a connection, until suddenly a shocking thought jolted through him. "They're dragon-"

"Eggs. Yes, that's right. You are half rider, one of the dragons could be attracted to that."

The boy shook his head, eyes wide at the thought.

"Surely you are interested. One little touch is all it will take." Galbatorix purred his voice so coercing Murtagh considered simply listening to him, before closing his eyes and clenching his hands together to restrain himself from reaching out and doing as the king told. "It's a shame that the soldiers were unable to catch the boy, at least he was brave enough to touch the egg."

"He didn't know." Murtagh argued, but his eyes flirted to the eggs that were temptingly with in reach.

"At least that is what he says. He may have been lying to you the entire time; lying about his life, lying about his destination, lying about accepting you."

These words seemed to fuel a fire that had been waiting to explode inside Murtagh's veins and he shot his hand out, furious at the king, trying to prove he wasn't as weak as everyone, including himself, seemed to believe he was. The instant his hand touched the ruby egg a crippling pain exploded in his mind. He fell backwards a harsh scream exploding from his lips as he felt the king attempting to infiltrate his mind and began to tear the barrier down piece by piece.

Murtagh had always imagined animals when people attacked, and when he was younger successfully infiltrated his mind. Some were bees sharp and stinging, but easy enough to get rid off, others were dogs rough but careless, still more often were the oxen slow and strong harder to get rid off but never able to infiltrate the more secure parts of his mind; when for the first time Galbatorix entered his mind the first imagine that appeared was a giant, deadly serpent, slithering through all of his memories, easily sliding through the smallest cracks into his thought that until then were impenetrable. The king made slow work of shuffling through the young man's mind, pulling the most painful memories to the surface, carefully examining each memory of Eragon, and studying childhood memories he had held sacred. Finally the king withdrew, leaving Murtagh gasping on the floor as waves of the pain kept rolling through his head.

"I warned you it would be wise to fight me about that, I have always won. Guard." A soldier appeared almost instantly, and bowed. "Take this man back to his cell."

Even through his pain Murtagh was able to push himself off the ground and glare at the king. "You have what you wanted. There is nothing else I can give you. You said you would stop then." Murtagh chocked on the sobs that had come unbidden to his throat at the pain and the thought of there potentially being more.

"I said when I was done with you. There is still one more thing I need." The king nodded his head and the soldier dragged the dark haired man from the room. The last sight Murtagh saw of the king was the man stroking the egg gluttony filling all of his features at the information he had just obtained.

**a/n: Whoop! Longest chapter so far. Please review cause it motivates me. Also next chapter is all Eragon and practically all written. It was part of this chapter at first, but seeing as they were two long parts I split them into two. So tell me what you think and I'll see you soon.**

**-Alex**


	6. Draumr Kópa

**a/n: Alright as promised a September update and a chapter that is Eragon centric. Two things exciting in my life. First do you think I'm dumb for the fact that I lived with someone this summer for 10 weeks (Not in a dirty way you freaks, we were working together, teaching archery, leading raids, having "battles {with a legit fort with prison area and everything, water balloons can be quite dangerous}, living in the forest, and riding horses around) and not until afterwards did I realize that he was my blood brother from like eleven years ago? (You know, where you cut your thumbs and put them together so the blood mixes) Secondly, if any of you watch the show made, it's quite possible I'm going to be in an episode, interview with producers tomorrow. :D Anyways please review for this chapter and it you were unable to the review from last chapter can go in here as well.**

**Disclaimer: Trust me I don't own it. **

**Draumr Kópa**

Eragon slumped on the horse, his head nestled in its mane, and stared dully at the other horse who dutifully trudged after him. The darkening of the sky did nothing to ease his mind, he knew that he had no time to set up camp and allow himself to sleep; time was running out for the elf and he knew from Saphira that the king's army was steadily following him. With a sigh he rubbed his tired his eyes forcing them to stay up before sitting up straight in the saddle and was instantly surprised by the fact that the Boer mountains no longer appeared to be miles away. he knew that from the tales he had hear of their size their proximity would be deceiving, there were most like hours of riding left before he reached them.

The ground around him had slowly changed from the grainy sand of the desert that so bothered him into solid soil. Small clumps of greens plants began appearing on the ground and Eragon could see where water had pooled and run through the ground, leaving small gouges in the land. Occasionally a small rodent would pear out of the grass its small eyes carefully searching him before it would see his gaze on it and the animal would dart into its burrow. As he drew farther away from the desert the vegetation grew thicker and increasing amounts of animals were seen, birds flew overhead, antelope grazed on the grass, and reptiles darted out of the way of his animals.

_Saphira, neither the horse nor I can go on. I have to find somewhere to camp, it doesn't have to be for long, just enough to let us rest. _

_Don't worry, little one, I will watch for any trouble and will wake you if it is needed. Rest as long as you need. I'll remain nearby; there are enough creatures around for me to satisfy my stomach._

_Good hunting._ Eragon yawned, slowing his horse to a stop by a small stream. Here he pulled the Elf of Murtagh's horse and laid her on a rough woolen blanket. The boy wished he could build a small fire to ward off the cold that came with evening and to life his spirits, but he knew such a creation would be like a beacon guiding the soldiers straight towards him. Instead he wrapped a blanket tightly around his shoulders and allowed himself to sink into a sleep so deep that no dreams plagued him.

_Eragon!_ Saphira's voice cause the teen to bolt upright, his hand flying to the pommel of his sword. _Look!_

A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowing from their heels. Their weapons glinted in the pale light of morning. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.

_It's the Empire they've found us...somehow._

Eragon gathered his belongings and saddled Snowfire. Saphira fanned her wings., took off in a rush, and circled above. _What direction shall I fly?_

_East, along the Beors. _

The group moved as quickly as they could, soon leaving the army in the morning sunlight behind them. Eragon was unsure of how long they could keep this pace up, the horses seemed ready to drop underneath him, yet they steadily continued forward, willingly following him as if knowing he would do anything in his power to protect them.

The shadows of the mountains stretched far out from the mountains, dark, jagged shapes in the sunlight. Eragon could now see more details about them, where rocks had tumbled down the sides creating areas barren of trees, where ledges stretched out over straight with hundreds of feet before the ground was seen again, and where glistening snow covered the peaks that vanished into the clouds.

_I was interrupted this morning whilst hunting. I must eat._

_ Go, but be quick about it. _Eragon cast a glance over his shoulder almost expecting to see the king himself appearing on the horizon. As Saphira's shadow passed over him as she soared away, the boy looked up fondly smiled at her underbelly.

When Eragon reached a small pond of clear water surrounded by rushes he decided to stop for several minutes rest and to allow the horses to drink. As he studied the sparkling his mind traveled to wondering about the man that had traveled with him. He wondered what had befallen Murtagh since their ways had separated, had he been released or was he still being held. He guessed it was the latter remembering how when he had first warned the other of the dangers of traveling he had replied by stating the fact that he too had done something to cause the Empire to search for him. Had his family been notified of his imprisonment, or did he even have a family? Thinking on it Eragon realized how little he had known about the man, yet he still felt closer to him than many others who had entered his life and worried about his fate.

He wished that there was some way for him to see how the other man was. He dipped his hand into the cool water and then quickly pulled it mentally smacking himself. Off course, now that he had access to a pool of water he should be able to scry Murtagh. For a moment he hesitated knowing he was exhausted that the energy required would be more than he should give up at the moment, but the need to confirm that the teen was still alive outweighed reason. He guiltily looked around fro Saphira, knowing that if she was nearby she would scold him for even thinking about doing such a thing. Once he was positive she was far enough away he held his palm out of the calm surface of the water. "Draumr Kópa."

Instantaneously the pond seemed to ripple as an image took over the surface. Polished marble created a floor that was larger than any the boy had ever seen in his life, but what caught his attention was the figure on the floor. For a single second he wondered who it was, but with a sharp gasp he realized it was the man he had been searching for. He writhed on the floor his mouth open and Eragon knew that if he had been able to hear what was going on screams would have been filling his ears. From his viewpoint he could see the dried blood that stained tips of his fingers and a large purple bruise that covered the side of his face that wasn't pressed to the floor. After minutes of this Murtagh slowly stopped twisting and lay on the ground his body trembling and gasping for air, a moment later a soldier appeared and roughly grabbed the dark haired man's arms. In response the teen seemed to argue with someone before being dragged away from the room.

Eragon released the spell and a headache began to pound behind his temples. Slowly he turned to the saddle bag and withdrew a piece of hard bread which he forced himself to choke down, before moving to mount his horse. He would take the elf to the Varden and then search for Murtagh, knowing that the torture the teen was experiencing was at least partly on account of him. Before he could do so a small noise on a hill in front of him caused him to jerk his head upwards.

A tall, brown-cloaked man sat on a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him was a group of about twenty horsemen.

"They can't be Varden." Eragon muttered to himself. "According to Arya, they're still scores of leagues away. This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups. Eragon draped a blanket over Arya. Hopping the horsemen had not been able to see that she was an elf.

_Saphira, I'm being approached by a group of horsemen. Don't show yourself unless necessary. We're not in the Empire, but I still don't want anyone to know about you._

_ Never mind that, _she replied. _Remember, magic can protect you where speed or luck fail. _

He felt her take off and race towards them, gliding silently on currents high in the air

The man on the sorrel horse signaled with his mace, sending the horsemen cantering towards him. The men shook iron tipped javelins over their heads, whooping loudly as they drew near. Battered sheaths hung from their sides, their weapons were rusty and stained, showing how often they were used. Four of them trained arrows on the lone boy.

Their leader swirled his thick mace through the air, and his men responded with blood-thirsty yells as they wildly encircled Eragon. The moment Eragon was completely surrounded, with no chance of breaking through the barrier, the leader reined in his horse, then crossed his arms, and examined him critically. "Well, this is better than the useful dregs we find! At least we got a healthy one this time. And we didn't even have to shoot him. Grieg will be pleased!" The other men chuckled, several elbowing each other as if sharing a private joke.

At his words a sinking sensation filled Eragon's gut. A suspicion stirred in his mind. _Saphira…_

"Now for you. If you would be so good as o drop our weapons, you'll avoid being turned into a living quiver by my men." The archers grinned suggestively, causing the men to laugh again.

"Who are you and what do you wand? We are free men traveling through this land. You have no right to stop us."

"Oh, I have every right. As for my name, slave do not addres their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten."

A roar fill Eragon's mind as Saphira banked sharply far overhead. _Attack now! But let them escape if they try to flee._ She immediately folded her wings and plummeted downwards. Eragon smashed his elbow into a slaver's face, knocking the man out of his saddle. Before the slaves could gather their senses, Eragon scrambled out of the commotion and raised his hands. With several words of the ancient language, blue flames leapt from the ground, encircling him. Saphira plummeted from the sky and gracefully landed next to him. "Behold," Cried Eragon. "I am a Rider!" He raised Zar'roc over his head, the crimson blood flashing in the light. "Flee if you wish to live!"

The man shouted incoherently and scrambled over each other in their haste to escape. In the confusion, Torkenbrand was struck in the temple by a javelin. He tumbled to the ground, stunned. The men ignored their fallen leader and raced away in a ragged mass, their eyes filled with fear as they cast terrified looks at the dragon.

Torkenbrand struggled to his knees. Blood ran from his temple, branching across his checks in crimson streaks. "If…if we had kn..known" The man stuttered. "We would have never never attacked you."

Eragon cast him a disgusted look, "One should never deal in human flesh, it doesn't matter if they can't fight back or not."

"What are you going to do?"

Eragon sheathed his sword and turned away from the slaver. "Nothing. But if I ever hear word of you selling slaves, I swear my dragon will find you and no one will ever find anything of you."

The man swallowed nervously, eyeing Saphira's glinting fangs. "Your generous, sir. I swear I'll never have anything to do with slaves again. Thank you for being so kind, sir."

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind." Eragon was disgusted by the man's groveling and waited to turn around until the man had stumbled over the hill he had first appeared from. Then he mounted Snowfire, urging him towards the mountains ignoring Saphira's as to why he was so upset and his mind buzzed between the safety of the elf, the torture of his friend, and the slavers.

**a/n: Blah, that's my feelings on this chapter but that's alright. Please review, it really only takes like less than a minute. **


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

Hello readers! I have had this story on HIATUS for the past chunk of time with the intention to some day and return to finish it. Life was simply too busy for much writing time and I thought I would one day have more time for it. I have recently accepted a job across the pond and at time in various other countries. Unfortunately for security reasons I'm unable to keep many accounts I have on various websites. While I will still most likely be around it will only be for the very occasional one shots. Consequently I will be unable to finish this story so I am officially putting this story up for adoption. If you wish to take it on please PM about it.

Thanks and Bon Voyage.

Alex


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